


Sweetheart

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Mycroft Holmes, Couch Sex, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Making Love, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 18:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Mycroft realizes this isn't just sex, this is making love.





	Sweetheart

Mycroft moaned as Greg deepened the kiss, laying him back on his sofa. So much for dinner and drinks and conversation. Apparently both of them had been far more interested in something more. And he knew it couldn’t all be blamed on the wine.

“You’re thinking,” murmured Greg, deft fingers unbuttoning his shirt. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Heavens, no,” said Mycroft, leaning up to kiss him and lick his way into his mouth.

Greg groaned. “Please tell me you’ve got supplies handy.”

Mycroft nodded and gestured at the end table. “I put them there just in case things… happened.”

“Well they are definitely happening, sweetheart. Unless you’ve got objections.” Greg shifted to the end of the sofa to get the drawer open.

 _Sweetheart_? “No, none at all,” said Mycroft, breath catching as Greg found his prize and turned to give him a heated look.

“Good.” Greg put the supplies on the coffee table and moved over Mycroft again, kissing him as he resumed opening his shirt.

Mycroft wasn’t certain what to do with his hands, so he placed them on Greg’s shoulders.

Greg flashed him a grin and moved down, getting Mycroft’s trousers open. “God, do you know how long I’ve wanted you?”

“Quite a while, it seems,” said Mycroft, watching him.

“You could say that, yeah. Do I get to have you, Mycroft?” Greg’s fingers teased the band of his pants.

“I thought that was the objective of this evening,” said Mycroft, unable to keep from smiling back.

“Mm, you’re using big words. Need to distract you more.” Greg got his pants down and licked a stripe up his cock.

Mycroft gasped, hips bucking. Greg Lestrade was going to suck his cock. “Christ,” he muttered as Greg swallowed him down. Greg Lestrade _was_ sucking his cock.

Greg gave an appreciative hum, bobbing his head as he finished getting Mycroft undressed.

Mycroft’s eyes screwed tightly shut, one hand gripping the back of the sofa as obscene noises fell from his lips. As soon as he was bare, Greg pinned his hips, clearly enjoying the position they were in.

Cracking one eye open, Mycroft dared to look down. Greg was kneeling between his feet, intent on his objective. As if he were aware of Mycroft gaze he looked up through his lashes.

“Gregory,” panted Mycroft.

Grinning, Greg pulled off and reached for the lube. “Scoot back a bit,” he said.

Mycroft quickly obeyed. 

Greg leaned forward and kissed him, stripping quickly out of his own clothes and reaching for the lube, knocking over one of the wine glasses in the process.

“Damn,” he muttered, trying to pick it up before the red wine could drip on the carpet.

Mycroft reached out and caught his hand, putting the glass back on the coffee table. “Don’t worry about it.”

Greg chuckled. “You’ve probably got minions who are experts in stains. No, I don’t want to know what stains you’ve had to get out of carpet.” He got the bottle of lube open.

“I did drop a full plate of spaghetti once,” acknowledged Mycroft.

Greg chuckled and kissed him. Mycroft was so distracted by Greg’s tongue that it came as a surprise as Greg pushed a finger into him. “Shh, sweetheart, just relax for me.”

Again with the sweetheart. Did he say that to all his lovers? Mycroft suddenly started wondering how on earth he could possibly live up to the amazing partners Greg had no doubt had in his bed.

“You’re thinking again,” murmured Greg, running his free hand through Mycroft’s hair. “I got you. Just look at me. See how much I want you?”

Mycroft opened his eyes and looked at Greg’s face, seeing the truth of it. “You do,” he said with wonder.

“Of course I do. Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Greg chuckled and slid his hand around to cup Mycroft’s cheek, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m sure you do every morning when you shave. I wonder what you’d look like if I stole your razor.”

“I’d look like myself,” said Mycroft, gasping as Greg added another finger.

“A more rugged version of yourself.”

Mycroft huffed a laugh. “Rugged is not a word anyone has ever used for me.”

“No,” said Greg, mischief in his grin. “Steal your razor, maybe get you into something flannel…”

Mycroft shuddered. “You, maybe.”

Greg chuckled and stole another kiss. “I think we’re both a bit old to pull off the lumberjack look. However, maybe I could take you out to the woods sometime. Love to see you under the trees, sunlight on your freckles.” He licked his lips as if he were imagining the sight.

“You’re ridiculous,” muttered Mycroft, looking away from his gaze.

“And you’re ridiculously handsome,” said Greg.

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

Greg leaned in to steal another kiss, thrusting his fingers and adding another one. Mycroft moaned against his lips, running his hands down Greg’s sides.

Reaching over for a condom, Greg groaned softly. “I’m gonna take you now, sweetheart, that okay?”

“More than,” murmured Mycroft, watching him tear open the package and get it on. Greg kissed him again, and then adjusted his legs.

“Just breathe for me,” he said softly, settling between his thighs.

Mycroft groaned softly as Greg pushed into him, wrapping his arms around Greg’s neck. This was somewhat familiar, at least, though he’d rarely indulged.

Greg shifted and settled them on the sofa, moving slowly, carefully, sipping kissed from Mycroft’s lips.

Mycroft sighed and relaxed, trusting.

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” murmured Greg, leaning in to kiss his throat.

Mycroft moved with him, slowly realizing that this was more than a quick fumble in the dark. Greg’s lips were soft on his skin, his movements steady and sure. Mycroft blinked. This was making love.

“Gregory,” he said softly, tracing patterns on Greg’s back, surprised at the tears at the corner of his eyes.

Greg raised his head and looked at him, stilling. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“God no, not at all.” Mycroft kissed him gently. “I… it’s never like this. I mean, nobody has ever…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” said Greg, affection in his voice as he started to move again.

Mycroft sighed and nuzzled his shoulder. “Say my name?”

“Mycroft.” Greg whispered as if he were saying his name in worship. “My Mycroft.”

Sighing, Mycroft held him closer. Greg kissed his ear and moved a little faster, working a hand between them to stroke him.

“I’m yours,” he promised.

Mycroft nodded and nibbled on Greg’s shoulder before laying back again, eyes closed, a soft smile on his face.

Greg brushed a kiss across his lips. “Come for me,” he said, stroking him a little faster.

Mycroft groaned softly and obeyed, feeling _safe_. He could feel Greg smiling at him.

“Beautiful, sweetheart… Mycroft,” he corrected himself.

Mycroft opened his eyes. “I think you can call me sweetheart,” he said.

“Only if you’re okay with it.” Greg kissed him sweetly and moved faster still, losing rhythm as he neared his own orgasm.

“I am,” said Mycroft, dragging blunt nails down Greg’s shoulders.

Greg groaned and came, curling into Mycroft’s shoulder and panting heavily as he moved through the aftershocks.

Mycroft held him, heart aching at the enormity of it all, and yet also feeling certain that this was the beginning of something amazing for them both.

Greg finally turned his head and kissed Mycroft’s throat. 

“I do have a rather large shower and nice warm bed upstairs,” murmured Mycroft.

“Good. Can clean you up and then get you dirty all over again,” mumbled Greg.

“Neither of us are twenty, we can at least take a hot shower and curl up under the covers.”

“You always have the best ideas,” said Greg, not moving at all.

Mycroft kissed the top of his head. “Come on, sleeping on the sofa won’t do either us good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to theartstudentyouhate for reading along and Beltainefaerie for the quick read over.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr and twitter at merindab


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